


On the Path Toward Home

by FoxRafer



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/pseuds/FoxRafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://caras-galadhon.livejournal.com/"><b>caras_galadhon</b></a> for the  exchange. One of the things she requested was: "Something on the theme of returning to home (literally or figuratively) might be nice." This is a combination of book and movie canon, although I believe it leans closer to the book as far as what is going on in the character's minds.</p>
    </blockquote>





	On the Path Toward Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**caras_galadhon**](http://caras-galadhon.livejournal.com/) for the exchange. One of the things she requested was: "Something on the theme of returning to home (literally or figuratively) might be nice." This is a combination of book and movie canon, although I believe it leans closer to the book as far as what is going on in the character's minds.

Another song of lament floated down from the trees, the silken voices of the elves unexpectedly soothing to Boromir's frayed senses. They'd been in Lothlórien for a few days and he could still feel Galadriel, still sense her questioning and probing in his mind, offering what he knew she would not give. He thought perhaps he alone did not feel safe in these lands, but he did not begrudge the others this respite. Better to have the freedom to mourn than to continue carrying that burden when one needed to be swift of foot and sword. And each of his companions in their own way took this opportunity to rest in peace, to untangle their souls before the road and all its perils were before them once more.

All except Aragorn. On the outside he was the picture of control and calm, helping the others to settle in their camp beneath the trees, exchanging information with the elves about the strength of the enemy and the Fellowship's plans. But Boromir could see the disquiet beneath, could almost hear the discordant thoughts warring in his mind.

Since they'd arrived he'd noticed Aragorn stopped feigning even the pretense of sleep. Boromir had learned early on that Aragorn rarely slept. Not even the alert rest on the edge of consciousness that most soldiers learned to perfect. Since they left Rivendell, when not on watch he would stretch out on the edge of the camp and study the sky. At first Boromir thought this was a trait picked up from the elves, as he'd seen Legolas "sleep" in such a manner. But Aragorn's breathing didn't deepen, he shifted and moved with his thoughts, quite different from the elf's complete stillness and almost meditative state. Now in the Golden Wood even this attempt at rest was discarded. When the others were asleep Boromir would watch him walk out into the trees, his path seemingly aimless, his body taut with tension.

While he had not yet fully processed his own thoughts about Aragorn's lineage, he still admired his natural leadership, valued his skill with a blade and his understanding of a soldier's sacrifice and duty. And occasionally he'd catch a look in Aragorn's eye, notice a subtle shift in his stance, and Boromir would see a king standing before him, the Ranger's cloak replaced by a man worthy of his allegiance, a man ready to restore the glory of Gondor. He surprised even himself that in these moments there was no resentment or ill will, only deep respect and love.

Yet there were many obstacles to overcome before that future would be realized, and the Aragorn who now wandered restlessly each night was not the man to tackle them. Boromir may not always have agreed with the decisions that led them here, but with Gandalf gone he knew that the others all looked to Aragorn for guidance and despite their differences he did not wish to challenge him for command of their party. He suspected that Aragorn felt an acute loss at Gandalf's death as if it were a wound that would not heal. Boromir and Aragorn had already proven they were uniquely capable of helping each other, whether through a well-chosen word or the companionable comfort often shared by men of arms. And he believed he may be the only one here who could help Aragorn clear his mind for the difficult choices ahead.

After a few more nights had passed with Aragorn still unable to find peace, Boromir decided to follow him into the woods once more. This time he made no secret of his presence and yet they had traveled several yards before the Ranger acknowledged him.

"One shadow is enough for me."

"Then you won't mind releasing the specter of Gandalf that has tethered itself to you."

Aragorn wheeled on Boromir. "You would be wise to tend to your own veiled thoughts before trying to uncover mine," he snapped before continuing along the path.

Boromir expected anger but was discomfited to see eyes weighed down with sadness and weary resignation. Of course Aragorn spoke the truth; there was much on his mind and these woods and their Lady did not soothe, were not even a palliative for his confused thoughts. Yet it was not his shoulders that needed to carry the burden of this quest, and this was not the place to delve too deeply into his own troubled mind. He pressed on.

"I mean no disrespect, Aragorn, and I of all people understand the need for solitude. But I think if you were going to defeat these demons on your own you would have done so by now."

Aragorn stopped but did not turn around as Boromir came up along side him.

"My thoughts do not linger solely on Gandalf. It would be simpler if they did."

Boromir moved to sit at the base of a tree and waited for Aragorn to join him. "Tell me."

Aragorn looked past Boromir, into the darkness of the night that surrounded them. "I think of Gondor. Of the mountains and warm pastures, of the green fields and quiet villages. Of the great river and the bustling streets of Minas Tirith. For many miles I have felt it was long past time for me to go home."

"The solution is obvious," Boromir began but Aragorn cut him off quickly.

"Do not try and convince me the ring should go to Gondor. I have no doubts that its destruction is the only course of action that could lead to Sauron's defeat. But that is where I find my conflict, for I feel committed to helping Frodo on his mission yet I have a strong sense that my path does not lead to Mordor, at least not directly."

Boromir was in no mood to fight, and there was still time to convince Aragorn that destroying the ring was but only one viable option. So for now he held his tongue and let Aragorn speak.

"And what of my reception at Minas Tirith? Your father? _You_ do not always look kindly at the prospect of my return, I imagine his welcome would be even more cold; and in the middle of war I do not wish my presence to cause any internal strife."

"I dare say my brother would make a better Steward to you than either me or my father, but we know our duty. We are honorable men; you will find us to be true."

"I have found things are never quite so simple."

The wistful longing in Aragorn's eyes touched Boromir. He had thought this man's love of Gondor had been diminished over the years, supplanted by the world of elves and a Ranger's solitude. It was heartening to see this innate love of the land he was born to lead still shining like crystals in bright sunlight. He reached out a hand and clasped Aragorn's shoulder.

"We have many leagues before we cross into the Pelennor and see the white tower blazing before us. I still insist your anticipation of turmoil at your homecoming is unfounded but now is not the time for those concerns. Nor is it time to decide whether to continue with Frodo or return to Minas Tirith. As a group we will travel further south before our paths diverge, if diverge they must. There is time to consider your options, to listen to your heart and your head."

"It is better to decide a course of action when you're in a place of relative safety."

"But not when you're not capable of rational thought."

Aragorn exhaled a tired laugh. "So you think I'm irrational?"

Boromir smiled and squeezed Aragorn's shoulder. "I think we all need rest before we begin making plans. And you have done everything but rest since we arrived. Put down these troubles, if only for a little while. Let yourself be free of them for a few days."

"You're probably right," Aragorn sighed, pushing himself to his feet. "It feels like days since I last slept." As Boromir stood beside him he pulled him into a brief hug. "Thank you, Boromir. It is a relief to have your counsel. And perhaps we could talk through some of these points together."

"I'd be honored. But not ..."

"... for a few days. I know, I know." Aragorn smiled as he threw an arm across Boromir's shoulders and steered them back to the camp. "In the meantime may I introduce you to the Lothlórien I know? Dispel any lingering concerns you have about the Lady and the wood?"

"If it pleases you to try, my friend, but it is likely a fool's errand you set for yourself."

Aragorn clapped Boromir on the back and laughed, the first unrestricted sound Boromir had heard from him in days. Boromir smiled, content with this small success. It eased his mind that Aragorn thought of Gondor, that he struggled in part from a desire to see the country of his birthright again. At that moment he resolved to show Aragorn the way home and be the first to welcome him.


End file.
